Love Yourself
by Ori R. Smith
Summary: "You can complain about everything, can't you, lass?" I wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement the way he put it, but I tried to play it off as a joke and only ended up looking extremely uncomfortable as I chuckled, causing them all to stare at me with a mixture of emotions. "Well, I don't like to boast," but he wasn't wrong, and it wasn't meant to be funny ... was it?
1. this is the story of a girl,

**Chapter One.**

* * *

I was still in denial.

I mean, how could I _not_ be?

I was trying to tell myself, _comprehend_ the fact, I had _no idea where I was_ , which so happened to be in - what looked like - the middle of a woods. And I only say that because there's grass covering the cool ground and little colorful flowers sprouting up in the green, and of course, tall trees surrounding me and it was warm in the spots the sun was shining.

Honestly, this was fucking great and all, but is it was I was expecting? _Never_. Not to be rude or ungrateful, but I was expecting more ... _white_ , in the sense of either walls and the sound of periodic beeps, or the great pearly white stairs and lead me up to those gates - _hallelujah_. You know, the things you usually expect when you try to show off to yourself and _whatever_ being ( alive or dead ) is watching when you try to walk home in the late evening by yourself from the library ... in the winter. So to say I was kinda sweating right now was the truth, but I was still too stumped to take my coat off, even if it was starting to get itchy.

This was just - _no_ , I mean. Unless ... this was my heaven? And I skipped the entrance exam, the judgment on my sins and they just decided to say, "Hey, fuck it, let's give this one a break,"?

 _But probably not_.

I might be in hell. Sounds more reasonable for a shit-head like me who was either secretly on everyone's kill list, or publicly known they hated me. But last time I checked, Hell had fire, yo. Unless Lucifer is trying to get on my good-side because he's realized I'm a good asset for world domination. Then again, I've never dominated anything. Hell, I've never even shown dominance to my dog! And look how that turned out!

( Imagine here: a seventy-five pound husky ruling over a bed, and having to sleep right on the edge and fearing of both falling off and the non-existent creature living under it. )

Back on track here, I needed to get this shit through.

Inhaling deeply through my nose for what seemed like the first one since I had woken up in these woods, the fresh air filled my lungs and my head felt woozy, and for the split second I could properly think and I knew it had finally crashed down on me, and I was numb. My chest constricted my throat burned as I began to decline quickly, my eyes stinging as I brought a gloved hand up to my face. As quiet as whatever rational part of my brain still functioned wanted me to be, it bubbled up and my stomach churned ten ways 'till Sunday, and I vomited right to the side, some of the bile landing on my thick stockings and painting my black coat and I began to sob into my mittens. I knew anything could hear me, whether it be dangerous or helpful, and covering my mouth and squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to let my tears flow silently, but with every whimper and hiccup, I wasn't sure how well that was going to work.

I was stranded, I was alone, I was defenseless in my winter clothes and boots, with nothing but the pepper spray in my pocket and my phone, and this and so much more was running through my mind. Did I run: see how far I could make it before I possibly find help or until I couldn't move anymore? Or do I wait: helplessly and in distress like some damsel and see how many days I can last with no food?

Honestly, as appealing as the last one sounded, I happen to love food and the pudge on me shows it. But also, curling up in a ball of self-pity, depression and sky-rocketing anxiety and crying myself to death shamelessly, sounds absolutely amazing right now.

My mother would be so disappointed in me.

Oh, well. Too bad, so sad I suppose.

Letting out a mildly loud, extremely pitiful and girl whine, I threw myself back onto the ground with a thud, only crying harder at the pain that shot through my back from the impact, and the injuries and open wounds I have. My family ran through my head during the midst of this mayhem.

It wasn't the fact I didn't love my family, don't get me wrong. Despite the fact they're all paranoid as hell, but also incredibly full of themselves beyond reason, they still hold a place in my heart. But I felt so much more alone, and it was so much more harder to breath. I was never alone, never growing up, I had always clung to my mothers side with everything, and it has only been recently I had begun to do things on my own - which much difficulty of course. But now? How did I even know if I could call her? How could she get here even if I did? I probably didn't even get a signal out here ...

Fuck.

Now, before we even go any further, I am going to admit I am the biggest baby in the world, hands down, ask anyone that's known me over a year. I can complain and whine about anything in the fucking world, without a doubt. Everyone kept telling me it's because I'm young, which I don't see as the truth, and I blame my anxiety for it, which relates back to the fact I had my mother making even my doctor appointments for me and I fact I never cared to learn how. I do all this now, even if I stumble over my words and say things I don't mean, and make jokes no one finds funny, but thats not the point here.

The point being -

I sniffled harshly, hiccuped and covered my face with my knitted mittens and wailed for my mother like the little bitch I can admit I am.

\- I don't even give myself an hour.


	2. who cried a river and drowned the world,

**JustAnotherGirl94:** thank you so much for the compliment! and it is a girl in middle earth story, though she does remind me of a female!au!ori now that you bring it up!

ahh! just a little more of self-pity and acceptance. after this the story begins, i promise.

* * *

 **Chapter Two.**

* * *

To tell you the truth, I honestly don't know how long I've allowed myself to lay here in the grass, but the smell of the vomit on the ground beside me and the little bits on my clothes were beginning to not only stink, bur attract flies and other insects, so I can only imagine it's been quiet awhile.

I felt helpless, I felt hopeless, I was lost and I was more numb than I was scared of anything. At this moment? A small part of me was hoping something would come and find me, and just take the misery away, but I figured that would be far too easy. I didn't wasn't to move, but the rational part of my brain told me the same thing now that's it's been telling me for the past week: there's more to life than laying around in your puddle of self-pity and depression. I needed to get out instead of feeling sorry for myself.

Sniffling, my nose twitched and my eyes clenched shut harder. My muscles ached and protested as I shifted around to place my hands under me and push myself up into a sitting position, and instead of staring up at the sky, I was now looking forward as a bunch of trees. That's so exciting.

It wasn't that I didn't know what to do - I knew how to survive outside, in the summer time, with nothing thanks to a summer camp I went to every year. But it was the fact I just didn't want too, because I didn't want to admit to myself this was all actually happening. I'm not strong enough for this, I'm not smart enough, and I know the moment I start to put those skills to work, I'll blank and forget everything I ever learned. I'm not brave enough ...

Quivering, I took my bottom lip between my teeth and shook my head back and forth frantically, clutching the fabric of my coat the best I could in mittens - everything I'm glad I kept on as it grew evening and began to get a bit chilly - and tears started to stream down my cheeks again. Scuffing my feet against the ground, I bought my knees up and leaned forward, resting my head against them.

I wanted my friends, I wanted my dog, I wanted my bed, my home, even my erratic mother and my selfish brothers and my sister who only talked to me a couple times a year. I wanted anything familiar to comfort me! This wasn't suppose to be happening to me, I didn't deserve this!

Quickly reaching into my pocket, I fumbled around and wrapped my hand around the device and pulled it out, the mirror like screen reflect my retched and dirty face and the beautiful scenery behind me. Putting my thumb onto the button on the upper right side of it, I began to press down and paused, my breathing stopped and my eyes widened slightly.

Did I want to do this?

I had been hesitating to check this, not knowing if I'd be able to take what those little words would tell me in big bold letters: out of service. It would be then, in that moment I'd have to let the reality crush down on me and my brain couldn't come up with anymore silly excuses on what's happening. I'd really have no other choice -

Sniffling again, and trying to calm my erratic and uneven breaths from crying so hard, I pressed that little button, lighting up the screen on my phone and it was like my resolve just shattered beside my ears like glass and every piece pierced my aching heart. The silent tears I had been eating for began to spill.

\- but to believe I am utterly and completely fucked.

Now, as I once again began to allow myself to sink back into that large river of self-outer that could quiet literally kill an entire city, let me tell you I am eighteen years old, a goddamn grown women who should be able to deal with something like this without wishing my mother was here to tell me what the fuck to do. But was I? Hell no. I don't think I could. The most I've ever had to do alone was go somewhere, and be at my job, and be in my room or the house when my mother would leave. I hardly even went out anywhere with friends, but I guess that's only because my true friends lived in completely other states, so I'll take the point off the roster.

Sitting there with my head on my knees, my breathing began to slow as I tried one of those techniques. I never though they worked, but it slowly began too, as I tried to tell mysel I needed to get off my goddamn ass and try and find help, because this was no fairytale and no Prince Charming was going to come rescue me from this predicament. I had to be a strong and independent woman ... or at least start teaching myself how to be very quickly.

So I began my fateful journey of picking myself up off the ground, no matter how bad my head started to pound or how much my bones and muscles cried from being stiff after laying in the same position for what was obviously hours. I knew I had to do this, I knew I could lay there and actually allow myself to die in anyway - especially being eaten - becaus I've pretty much figured out I'm not already dead. I learned enough from bible classes that if I were, I wouldn't be scared or depressed, or in any kind of pain. Unless I was in Hell. This could a form of Hell, I don't doubt that. I probably deserve it too.

Standing up straight, my knees wobbled and I stumbled from side-to-side for a good moment, holding my arms out. I felt like some new born animal trying walk with each step I took until I got my balance. One I had, after a few moments, I stood still and looked around, my eyes analyzing everything around me and it all looked the same so I suppose I'd just have to pick a random direction.

Burrying my hands into the deep pocket on my coat, I rolled my shoulders up close to my face, the soft fabric brushing against my chin and I sighed, letting my eyes slide shut: "Well, fuck me with a broom stick,"


End file.
